Arthur stood behind Eleanor.
"Thomas and Clara found each other," he said.
"When?"
"Years later."
"Why didn't anyone know?"
"They wanted peace."
Eleanor stared at him.
"They were together?"
"For the final years of their lives."
"Why didn't they marry?"
Arthur smiled sadly.
"They didn't need a ceremony."
"What happened to them?"
"They lived quietly."
Arthur handed Eleanor a photograph.
Thomas and Clara were old.
But they were smiling.
Together.
On the back was written:
We finally made it home.
Eleanor cried.
After eighty years, their story finally had an ending.
Arthur gave Eleanor one final envelope.
"This was meant for you."
"For me?"
"Thomas wrote it before he died."
Eleanor opened it.
The letter began:
To whoever finds our story,
Don't spend your life waiting for the perfect moment to tell someone how you feel.
We lost years because other people spoke for us.
Don't make the same mistake.
Eleanor's tears fell onto the paper.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
Love is worth fighting for while you still have time.
Eleanor's tears fell onto the paper.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
Love is worth fighting for while you still have time.
while you still have time.